Patient: Elevator Girl
Legal Guardian: Donna Hoke
Symptoms: elevator erections, elevator blowjays, elevator mystique
Diagnosis: Going down
Somehow, the intro that debuted with sex and superheroes… was flat. The centerpiece elevator counterbalanced with a profound tone to backup the everyday, “every girl” Elevator Girl conception amongst the characters. The whimsical theme of superheroes was always inviting, but it was consistently a let down: superheroes were a very bare prop for the legal guardian. It was so bare, it was excruciating and nauseating. Yes, it was: tights, capes, masks, “Captain” This and That. It’s a wonder how the character Peter is paid United States currency to be a comic artist for these cereal box caricatures. What’s worse, there’s apparently an in-story social network rave for Elevator Girl. I could care less about Elevator Girl.
An inside joke walks into an elevator: it became the milked dry through-line of this play. The plot robs itself of subtly with plot billboards such as Vanessa. There is authentic dialogue; it’s a wonder where the logic gets off when the story needs natural direction. The drama sneaks up on the reader because its foreshadowing was paradoxically absent or telling. The dull vulgarity is dull, “turbo deep-throat.”
Only after the patient’s diagnosis did I research its #Metoo themes. Without briefing, I didn’t get these from the patient at all. Victimization, pathos, sex, not sure, it was all unimpressive. Was it Richard, the lame douche stock character? I hope he doesn’t represent Every Guy.
EG is a healthy platform for a modern, casual play. The playwright's goal is on the right floor. One day, perhaps, their patient will be up, UP, AND… revised.